Once upon a time in Wensley Fold came a large man from the other side of Hadrian’s Wall, from the badlands of the Nith. Where a strange creature called haggis is eaten and skirts are worn, even by males of this species. He appeared to be whistling down an octopus as he came over the wall. Certainly running his fingers along suckers on its legs, to a tune called ‘Amazing Grace’.

But his true love was his squaw Rose Marie. A young maiden from a Celtic tribe, one nation often green with envy of their Apache neighbours from a land called Strathclyde. This chieftain had no time for these warring savages. His people were a nation of Amazons, led by one known as the Queen of the South.

Roger ‘Sitting Bull’ Simpson was his name. With a mission to conquer England, after many thwarted attempts by fellow Pictish nations. This raiding party was made up of his squaw, daughter Pocohontas and his baby son Hiawatha. But more members were added to his tribe as Roger and Indian Rose set up their tepee in a Mountain Lion den. Further papooses were born and the Simpsons soon became a tribe in their own right.

But soon a mighty nation of warriors, painted blue and white, made peace with Roger. They made him a blood brother and took him to their sacred site called Ewood Park. Now his tribe has moved across the reservation to another happy hunting ground. This tribe is flourishing, his papooses will soon be braves. And ‘Sitting Bull’ could not be happier being three cheets to the wind.